


Pathetic

by Asher_Ephraim



Series: Pitiful [1]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bad Decisions, Drunk Sex, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, It Isn't Gay If You Only Top, M/M, Promiscuity, Self-Esteem Issues, Slurs, Slut Shaming, Smoking, bottom Mitaka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2018-12-06 17:43:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11605653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asher_Ephraim/pseuds/Asher_Ephraim
Summary: Off-duty, Petty Officer Thanisson only interacts with Ensign Mitaka when he's seeking an outlet for his frustrations. Mitaka knows this all too well, but it turns out that knowing something is a bad decision doesn't necessarily prevent one from making it. Several times.





	1. First Night

It’s 2230 and Ensign Dopheld Mitaka is nursing his second neat whiskey of the evening. He’s seated at the bar of the junior officers’ lounge and keeping his eyes and options open. Tomorrow he’s off duty and tonight he isn’t planning on returning to his room without a diverting detour along the way.  
         At 2241, Petty Officer Niall Thanisson takes the seat beside him and orders a shot of rum with an ale chaser. He turns to politely nod and smile at Mitaka. “Ensign.”  
         “Petty Officer.”  
         Thanisson bolts down the shot, follows it with half his beer in one go, braces himself with both palms on the bar, and simply says, “Hey, you’re gay, right?”  
         Mitaka’s eyes narrow instinctively. He’s learned that this question generally proceeds either an attempted beating or a sexual proposition. But Thanisson’s voice is more shyly hopeful than angry, and Mitaka hasn’t yet been attacked on the _Finalizer_. “Indeed.” He lifts his glass and takes a gulp. Either way, he could certainly use the alcohol.  
         “So, tell me if this sounds crazy. I’m having problems with my girlfriend. As in, it’s probably over.”  
         Dopheld makes the requisite apologetic hum while he takes a studious sip and wonders why exactly he’s being told this.  
         “And I haven’t had sex in _weeks_. So I’m just looking for something casual, to take the edge off. Interested?”  
         “Are you bi?” He wonders how much the petty officer has heard about him. _(Dopheld Mitaka: you’d never think it, but he’s a slut.)_ He’s only been on the _Finalizer_ for a few months, but he knows word gets around. Also, he’s not the only new graduate from Arkanis here—and for his first few years at the Academy, he’d had no idea what discretion meant.  
         Eyes widening in surprise, Thanisson stutters, “No.”  
         “So, you thought you’d proposition a coworker because he’s homosexual? Seeing as how we’re known for our involvement with straight men? Wait, no, that’s _straight women_ I’m thinking about.” Even while he’s saying this, he’s not sure why he’s being so caustic. It may have something to do with the way Thanisson comes off as cocky even when obviously nervous. But perhaps that’s only a defence mechanism.  
         Thanisson’s face falls. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I thought you might understand where I’m coming from.”  
         But he does. Most of Dopheld’s couplings have heavily featured loneliness, pity, or other forms of desperation. He sighs. Thanisson _is_ pretty. And despite what he just said, there is a bit of an allure to the straight or deeply closeted man. When he speaks again, his voice is lower and kinder. “What exactly do you want? A quick blowjob or something more?”  
         “I mean, I’d be happy with head.” He doesn’t say anything more, but Dopheld gets the distinct impression that he’d be even happier on the giving end of a good, rough shag.  
         Rubbing his eyes, barely believing what he’s about to offer, Dopheld shrugs and agrees, “I’ll start by blowing you and we can take it from there.”  
         “Thank you.” Glancing around him rather nervously, he leans forward and asks, “Where do we go for this sort of thing?”  
         Dopheld isn’t above a quick go in the gents’, but he guesses Thanisson might have trouble with a semi-public tryst. He considers their other options. Petty officers share quarters (besides, Thanisson may still be cohabitating with his girlfriend) and Mitaka isn’t willing to bring the man back to his own room. The ensign’s bed is reserved for himself and other gay men. “There are always supply closets,” he suggests.  
         Niall Thanisson nods.

 

“Oh, Maker. No one’s ever blown me like this.” He stares down at Mitaka in astonishment and gratitude.  
         Dopheld can believe it. He himself is still young—twenty three—and has only put together this skill-set by being quite promiscuous and very attentive.  
         “This is what other blowjobs want to be when they grow up.”  
         Dopheld snorts with laughter, then chokes as his throat closes up. It squeezes a groan out of Niall.  
         “Can I hold you down?” the petty officer asks. “Fuck your face a bit?”  
         The ensign nods, thinking he’d like that very much.  
         Clutching Dopheld’s head with both hands, Niall Thanisson moves him as he pleases for some minutes. Eventually, he whispers, “Now I want to fuck you.” He sounds like he can’t muster the courage to admit this any louder.  
         Dopheld pulls off and rubs some feeling back into his lips before answering. “Really?”  
         “Yeah. Want me to?” His voice has grown husky with desire.  
         Not answering him directly, Dopheld asks, “Have you ever done this?”  
         With a smirk, Thanisson answers, “What, had my dick sucked?”  
         Shutting his eyes briefly in frustration at the flip retort, Mitaka clarifies, “No. Fucked a man.”  
         “No, I haven’t.”  
         “How about anal at all?” Watching Niall shake his head, Mitaka stands up and continues speaking. “Alright, then you’re going to have to listen to me.” He waits to make sure the petty officer is paying attention. “You’ll need a good deal of lubricant. Which I have with me, so no worries there. The angle is going to be different from what you’re used to, so enter slowly. And I do mean slowly. Give me a moment to relax once you’re all the way in. Got it?”  
         “Got it, sir.” Thanisson salutes, half-adorably, half-obnoxiously. Mitaka hands him the packet of lubricant and Niall promptly rips it open with his teeth, in the manner of porn stars and teenagers.  
         “After that point, it’s pretty idiot-proof.” He holds his palm out. “Give me some. I’ll prep myself.”  
         “How?” Niall asks, tilting his head in curiosity as he squeezes some lubricant into Mitaka’s cupped hand.  
         “With my fingers. To loosen up a little.”  
         “Can I watch?” he asks.  
         “If you’d like.”  
         Nodding enthusiastically, Niall insists, “I want to see you finger your arse before I fuck it.”  
         Dopheld would be lying if he said this statement hadn’t made him uncomfortably hard. He turns around, removes his trousers, drops his briefs, and brings his wet hand between his cheeks.  
         “You’ve a really nice arse,” Thanisson comments, putting a warm palm on one cheek. “Better than most girls I’ve had.”  
         Oddly complimented, Dopheld slides a finger inside himself. He wonders how many girls Thanisson has been with, but chooses not to ask because he doesn’t want to answer the same question about men. _(I’ve lost count.)_  
         Niall sinks to his knees for a better view, slowly stroking himself with his slick hand. “You look so tight. Are you sure I’ll fit?”  
         “Yes, Thanisson,” Dopheld remarks dryly. “I’ve taken larger dicks than yours.”  
         “How?”  
         “Patience and lube.”  
         Thanisson hums absently in thought. Perhaps he’s imagining this, envisioning the largest cock that’s been in here. Or maybe he’s just enjoying the view.

 

At least it turns out that Thanisson is decent at following orders, because he penetrates Dopheld at a painstaking pace, then refrains from moving after he’s fully seated.  
         Dopheld takes a few deep breaths and nods. “Thank you. Now go ahead.”  
         Niall gives an experimental push and groans. “Fuck, that’s amazing.” He grips Dopheld by the hips and murmurs, “I’m not gonna last long. You’re way too hot and tight.”  
         “Then go on and fuck me hard.”  
         “Yeah? Is that how you like it, Ensign?” he teases.  
         “Yes, Thanisson, fucking _give_ it to me.” This encounter is going much better than he’d have imagined.  
          Finding his stride, Niall starts pounding at him in earnest. “Oh, fuck, yes. Take my dick, you faggot.”  
         And just like that, Mitaka goes from egging the man on to wanting to kick him in the balls. He should stop this right now, push Thanisson out and off and leave without another word. But he’s invested by this point, and he doesn’t want to admit how much that word upsets him. Instead, he settles for warning, “Don’t call me that if you want to keep fucking me.”  
         “Sorry, you just feel so good. Got carried away.”  
         Dopheld rolls his eyes at this explanation, but he’s facing the wall and it’s too dark for Thanisson to notice anyway. _He’s_ never enjoyed something so much that he insulted a partner.  
         “I’m close,” Niall pants. “Can I come in you?”  
         Blinking in shock, Mitaka immediately snaps, “Absolutely not.” Until Niall had used that particular word, he would’ve given a different answer. As it is, he’s doing the petty officer a favour by allowing this to continue at all.  
         “Oh, c’mon,” Thanisson whines in protest.  
         “No,” he answers firmly. As if childish needling ever improved one’s chances.  
         Niall gives a drawn-out sigh, but then asks hopefully, “Will you swallow it?”  
          _Maker, he just doesn’t get it._ “Not out of my arse.” He’s done that before, but Thanisson neither knows that nor deserves it. “Just come on my back.”  
         “What if I can’t manage in time?”  
         “Then you’re not getting a second blowjob from me.” He can tell that does it—the promise of future dalliances has Thanisson fully on board this revised plan. “Now quit being such an arse and finish what you started.”  
         Thanisson huffs, but he puts his hands on Dopheld’s shoulders and quickly loses himself in a punishing rhythm. Not wanting to trouble or distract his momentary partner, Dopheld comes quietly into his own hand. A few minutes later, the petty officer is pulling out—far too fast for comfort—and spilling onto the ensign’s lower back with a satisfied groan.

 

Pulling up his briefs and fastening his trousers, Thanisson sighs, “Fuck, I could use a cigarette.”  
         Dopheld reaches into his discarded jacket to pull out a pack. Selecting one for himself, he lights it and then passes the rest over along with his sparker.  
         “Maker, thanks.”  
         Blowing smoke up at the ventilator, Dopheld casually asks, “So, what did you do to fuck up your relationship?”  
         “Oh, that. Well.” He takes a quick drag. “I suggested a threesome with her sister.”  
         Mitaka chokes on his nicotine. “You _what?_ ” He can’t help it—he’s laughing in horror.  
         “What?” Thanisson asks, sounding offended. “They’re twins. It would be hot.”  
         Dopheld has to bite his lower lip. “They’re sisters, you moron.”  
         “Oh, tell me you wouldn’t fuck a pair of twins. If you thought they were attractive.”  
         The ensign holds his hands up in surrender. “But,” he argues, “that isn’t something you ask when you’re in a relationship with one of them.” It’s something you bring up when you’ve recently met said twins and the three of you are mostly plastered in a pub.  
         “Well, I know that _now,_ ” Niall grumbles petulantly.  
         “How old are you, anyway?”  
         Thanisson frowns. “Twenty. Why?”  
         Shaking his head, Dopheld answers, “You’re very young for your age.”  
         “What does that mean?”  
         Mitaka finishes fastening his tunic. “It means you have a lot left to figure out.” He fastens his belt, nods at the other man, and says, “Have a good night. And let me know if you’d like to do this again sometime.”  
         “I would.”  
          _Well, that didn’t take much reflection._


	2. Second Night

Petty Officer Thanisson takes a seat on the stool beside Dopheld Mitaka, and the ensign knows precisely what this means. The blond hasn’t interacted with him off-duty since the last time he sought an outlet for his frustrations. That was approximately six weeks ago, but Dopheld has found a few other people to keep him entertained in the meantime.  
         “Evening, Ensign.”  
         Dopheld nods in acknowledgement. “Hello, Thanisson. Bad week?”  
         “Yeah, you could say that.” He sighs into his ale. “What are you up to tonight?”  
         Flashing him a quick smile, Dopheld answers, “You tell me.”  
         Nodding silently before downing the rest of his drink and paying up, Thanisson leaves alone. Dopheld gives him a discreet head start before settling his own bill and following. His comm bleeps. The source of the message is encrypted, only showing up as a random series of characters.  
                   _01b22D7A: Training room D-12._  
         The private training room is a good choice, considering the soundproofing and how this entire area is generally deserted at this hour of the evening. As the second person in, Dopheld flicks the indicator on the door to “In Use” and slips inside.  
         Before his eyes can adjust to the dim lighting, Thanisson has grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him face-first against the wall. Niall holds him there and grinds against his arse, making it abundantly clear that he’s already interested. “Missed me?” he teases.  
         “I missed the way you fuck me,” the ensign admits. He doesn’t much care for the petty officer otherwise, but he does enjoy this particular activity with him. And he knows Niall is still with his girlfriend, but it can’t be going all too well, because here they are.  
         “Good. Renae’s being a bitch and won’t put out. Ten days and I’ve only had my hands and porn to amuse me.”  
         “Oh, did you forget your anniversary?” Dopheld taunts. “Or was it her birthday this time?”  
         “Neither. I wouldn’t let her douchebag brother stay with us for a week.” He continues, fuming, “A whole week.”  
         “So she’s taking it out on you, and you’re taking it out on me?” The pair of them go through these cycles on repeat: Niall Thanisson does or says something careless and Renae responds by withholding sex. Really, what Dopheld ought to do is tell Thanisson he needs to figure his shit out. _(Get it sorted, nitwit.)_ But he won’t, not tonight anyway.  
         “Yes,” the blond admits. At least he’s an honest arsehole.  
         “You want me to blow you first, or shall we go straight to the buggering?”  
         Thanisson sighs. “Fuck, please blow me, Dopheld. No one else does it right.”  
         Mitaka smirks at this information and at the use of his given name. Thanisson may think of himself as perfectly straight, but the best head he receives is from another man. One day, perhaps he’ll see the hypocrisy in that. For now, the ensign views it as a prelude to the brutal arse-reaming he’ll be receiving very shortly.  
         Niall’s trousers hit the floor, followed promptly by his briefs. Dopheld gets to his knees and closes his lips around the head. After just a few swipes with his tongue, he tastes beads of precome.  
         “Maker,” Niall moans. “Your mouth… It should be illegal.”  
         Half of Dopheld’s motivation for giving good head is to listen to the reactions it elicits. To that end, he takes Thanisson farther into his mouth and his own dick jumps at the blissful sighs that result from this maneouver.  
         “Oh fuck, oh fuck… You’re gonna make me come right down your throat if you don’t stop.”  
         Dopheld leans back on his heels with a triumphant smile. “I’d prefer it if you fucked me.”  
         “So would I. Stand up and I’ll pound you into the wall.” Niall pulls a packet of lubricant out of his tunic pocket before removing the rest of his clothes.  
         This time, he breaches Dopheld much more smoothly and confidently than he had at first. While he waits for Mitaka to relax, he kisses the ensign’s shoulders. “Gonna go so hard on your pretty arse,” he murmurs into Dopheld’s ear. “Fuck you senseless and keep going.”  
         “That had better be a promise, Thanisson. I want you to plough me.”  
         The petty officer slams into him with fast, angry thrusts. “Dopheld,” he breathes. “You take it so well. Renae just cries when I try to fuck her up the arse, and it’s a complete turnoff. But you… Oh, you know what you’re doing. Feel so bloody good.”  
         Dopheld gasps as Thanisson presses against that sweet spot that makes his vision go wobbly. “Keep it up, Thanisson. You deliver an excellent hate-fuck.” He knows he shouldn’t like being treated this way, used simply to sate someone else’s frustrated desires, but it’s terribly satisfying. Having a nominally straight and very pretty man enjoy his body and skills is a bit of an ego boost, even if it is inherently exploitative. Though perhaps if he gets off on being exploited, then he deserves it. He files that thought away for future perusal, once it’s the middle of the night and he feels particularly pathetic.  
         “Don’t hate you,” Niall mutters. “Just pissed off and horny.”  
         “Still. It’s good and violent.”  
         “Yeah, you like that? Enough to let me finish in you this time?”  
         Oh, yes, Mitaka remembers that argument from before. It really wasn’t about the creampie—the issue had stemmed from Thanisson’s use of a particular slur. “If you can refrain from calling me a faggot, I’ll consider it.”  
         “I won’t do that again.” He pauses and kisses Dopheld’s neck. “But can I call you a bitch?”  
         “Yes.” Again, he shouldn’t accept this. But he does.  
         “Alright, then. Because I really want to come in you.” He whispers into Mitaka’s ear. “I want to breed this hole.”  
         Sucking in a hissing breath at Niall’s phrasing, Dopheld gives in. “Just… fuck it, yes, fine.”  
         “Good. ’Cuz pulling out is for porn.”  
         Dopheld will admit that this is true. They’re both clean, anyway. The only issue is the mess—and the indignity. If Mitaka had a committed partner, he wouldn’t think of this as degrading at all. Instead it would be an act of intimacy, or at least that’s what he imagines. But he’s never had sex with a proper boyfriend, and with Thanisson, it’s another story entirely.  
         The petty officer keeps talking between grunts and the sound of lubricated friction. “Unh, you dirty little bitch. Gonna give you this huge load I’ve been saving. Fill you up, leave you dripping.”  
         “Do it, Thanisson.” And Maker help him, he hears himself pant, “Breed me.” He rarely says this, and even while the words are leaving his mouth, he feels unpleasantly cheap. Part of his mind tells him he really ought to be paid, if he’s going to sink so low as this. Should receive some token consideration for the filthy things he does to get men off.  
         “Fuck!” Niall empties his balls and stills, shuddering against Dopheld’s back. “No one makes me come half as hard as you do,” he announces as he gingerly pulls out. “I mean, my fingers and toes are tingling.”

 

Later, in his cell of a room, Dopheld replays some of the things Thanisson said tonight, compares them to the first time, and realises something. The petty officer is branching out in his free time. After being with Dopheld the first time, Niall tried to have anal sex with his girlfriend. And she didn’t like it, possibly because he’d attempted to go as hard with her as he’d done with Mitaka. Also, he’s watched enough male-on-male pornography to have picked up some choice phrases. He’d thought ahead enough to bring his own supply of lubricant. It seems it isn’t just Dopheld’s proximity and availability that have the petty officer balls deep inside him.  
          _Good to know._  
         As he reviews the evening in its entirety, he chain-smokes. He reflects on the way he’s living out his father’s pronouncements on homosexuality. Two men can’t truly love one another. It’s just selfish, empty gratification. Nothing healthy could possibly come of it.  
         Thoughts rapidly spiraling down and out of control, Dopheld abandons his current cigarette in the ashtray and grasps his head in his hands. Desperately, he tries to cling to some thread of self-worth.  
_Your mother loved you._  
_(She had to. And even so, she didn’t protect you.)_  
_Lorrence cared about you._  
_(Lorrence left you. When you were most broken.)_  
_No, he was afraid of what else your father might do. He wanted you safe._  
_(He wanted you gone.)_  
_And now you’re too used for a decent second chance._  
_(How many men? You can’t even count.)_  
_(At least two hundred. And that’s not including the one-off blowjobs.)_  
_I know perfectly well what I am. I know._  
         He presses his fingernails into his palms until he can’t feel the pain anymore. Then he bites his lower lip until it bleeds. Once he tastes the fresh blood in his mouth, his mind finally goes quiet.  
         Then he lights a fresh cigarette to steady himself for sleep.  
         When the alarm rouses him, his lip is sore and he immediately berates himself for that as well.  
          _So weak. You have to damage your body on top of treating it with such disrespect?_  
         But the damage is just temporary, he tells himself. Like everything else. In the sonic, he stares at the ceiling and remembers what he’d let Thanisson do—what he’d _wanted_ the man to do.  
         He reports to the bridge and General Hux smiles at him. “Good morning, Ensign.”  
         “Good morning, sir,” Mitaka responds, infinitely grateful that the general keeps himself far above salacious gossip. _If only you knew, sir. You’d be horrified._


	3. Last Time

For the first time, Mitaka is seated at a booth with Thanisson, facing the petty officer across a small table holding their drinks. “What’s it like, being gay?” the blond inquires out of the blue.  
         Dopheld almost snaps,  _What’s it like, being a douchebag?_  Instead, he mutters, “Well, I don’t have anything else to compare it to.” Perhaps he ought to be pleased that Niall is interested in having any sort of conversation with him, no matter how inane.  
         “I mean, having to be secretive and all that.”  
         With a raised eyebrow, the ensign explains, “My orientation isn’t exactly classified information, Niall.” After all, Thanisson had heard it from somewhere. “What I am is discreet.” Something the petty officer would have difficulty understanding. Of course, Mitaka really oughtn’t fault him on that—it had taken him his entire stint at Arkanis to learn the value of not broadcasting one’s status as the academy’s cheapest date.  
         “But you have to be careful, right? Because some people aren’t alright with it.”  
         “True.” He really doesn’t want to discuss this, but on the other hand, he doesn’t want to punish Thanisson for the sliver of awareness he’s showing. _Perhaps we can make an ally of you yet, boy,_ he thinks.  
         “Has anyone ever—um… bullied you for it?”  
         Mitaka frowns at the question. “What, like stolen my lunch money or thrown my notes in the rubbish? No, Niall. I _have_ been beaten for it, though.”  
         “Oh, shit.” Niall looks appropriately aghast, and Dopheld mentally congratulates him for it. “Where did that happen?”  
         “School. Arkanis. A bar, once.” He leaves out the major incident. The first glaring act of violence that takes over his mind on sleepless nights. The beating that dwarfs those that followed.  
         “Was it bad?”  
He almost says, _Nothing to warrant a hospital stay,_ but something stops him from lying entirely. Instead he continues with his simple sin of omission. “No comas or transfusions. But I’ve had a broken arm, wrist, and nose. Plus a total of eight stitches.” He doesn’t mention the multiple surgeries or the pins. Or the offer of a safe place to stay which he’d instantly turned down. _I just fell down the stairs,_ he’d insisted. _I’m fine,_ he’d lied. And with each repetition, that falsehood had become more and more natural, a thoughtless reflex.  
         Thanisson whistles at the list of injuries. “Fuck. That’s awful. Just because you like guys. I mean, it’s not even something you chose to do.”  
         “No. But I do choose to act on it, which is justification enough for some.”  
         The petty officer downs his shot, winces, and moves on to the beer. When he speaks again, it’s an appreciated change in topic. “So, do you only bottom, or is that just with me?”  
         Blinking, Mitaka answers, “I don’t much like topping.” Then he gives his flippant reasoning, because he isn’t close enough to Niall Thanisson to properly explain. “Too damn much work. Murder on the lower back.”  
         “Oh, and sticking your arse up in the air like a bitch in heat is comfortable?” Niall asks with a wide smirk that’s more ribbing familiarity than cruelty.  
         “It’s less calisthenic,” Dopheld declares matter-of-factly.  
         Smile now sheepish, Niall’s voice is lower when he says, “Thanks, by the way. I never really thought I’d like fucking another man. But it feels so good with you.”  
         “Glad to hear you’ve been enjoying the gay sex.”  
         Blinking in surprise, the petty officer explains, “It’s not gay if you just top.”  
         Arching both eyebrows now, Dopheld responds pointedly, “That’s a novel definition. Some people would argue that consensual sex with someone of the same gender is necessarily an homosexual act. Regardless of an individual’s position during the act.”  
         Showing the palms of his hands, Niall concedes, “Okay, I’ll add a rider. If you’re in a relationship with another man, even if you only top, then it’s gay.”  
         Mitaka attempts to piece this all together. “So, according to your definition, when you and I fuck, I’m having gay sex and you aren’t.”  
         “Yeah.” Thanisson says this as though it doesn’t warrant further explanation. Like it’s self-evident. _You’re gay, I’m not. You have gay sex, I don’t. Even when we’re together._  
         “What are you having, then?” Dopheld inquires, raising a palm to his forehead, readying himself for an unwelcome revelation.  
         “I dunno. It’s more like jerking off, but using your body instead of my hand.”  
         Mitaka’s upper lip curls in disgust. “I can’t believe I let you come inside me,” he announces with a disappointed shake of his head, slides out of his seat, and stands to leave. Niall follows him.  
         “Wait, what did I say? C’mon, Dopheld. Tell me,” he pleads loudly from several steps behind. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”  
         Turning around to face the petty officer, Dopheld allows him to catch up before speaking as quietly as he can while still being heard by the younger man. “I’m a masturbation aid. I get it. And believe me, I don’t want a relationship with you. But I would like you to at least admit that I’m a person.”  
         Thanisson’s brows knit in confusion. “I know you are. Of _course_ you are.”  
         “I’d prefer if you were to treat me like it. Instead of an animate come-dump.”  
         Blinking, Niall mutters, “I thought that’s what you wanted.”  
         Mitaka grants that he really can’t hold it against Thanisson for coming to that conclusion. “To be honest, Thanisson,” he admits in exhaustion, “I’m not sure what I wanted.”  
         “Fine,” Niall admits sullenly. “I’m a bit gay. Certainly with you. Is that what you want me to say?” He closes his eyes briefly, then begs, “Please don’t tell anyone—I’m not ready.”  
         “Whom the hell would I tell? The gay cabal?” Abandoning his sarcasm for a moment, he adds, “Look, our social circles don’t overlap. I have no one I’d talk about you with. Besides, I’d never out anyone without permission. It’s the cardinal sin of queerness.”  
         “Thank you, Dopheld.” He smiles in open relief. “Now, is there any way we could still…” After trailing off, he starts again. “I’ve desperately missed the things you do for me.”  
         Despising himself already, Dopheld sighs and finds his head nodding.

 

“Can I… um, touch you?” Thanisson stammers. They’re back in a training room and the petty officer is already balls-deep in the ensign.  
         “Yes,” Dopheld agrees to the durasteel in front of his face.  
         “I probably won’t be any good at it,” the petty officer mumbles. “But what the hell. I wanna get you off, too, if I can.” Niall’s fingers close around Dopheld’s dick. “Fuck, you’re so hard.”  
         “I get like that when you’re fucking me the way you do.” He can’t hold back a moan when the movements of Niall’s hand and dick coordinate seamlessly. “Oh, _Niall_.”  
         “I like it when you say my given name like that.” Thanisson ducks his head down to kiss Mitaka’s shoulder. “Gods, your arse feels better than any pussy I’ve ever fucked.”  
         “Yeah? And how many has that been?”  
         “Eight. So how many dicks have been in here, before I came along?”  
         Dopheld chooses to frame his response as a tease. “So very many, Niall. I’m close to losing track.”  
         “Oh,” Niall says with a hitch in his voice. “Wow. And I’m good enough to—”  
         “Yes,” the ensign pants.  
         “To make you feel good?”  
         He repeats himself. “Yes. Now, do you want to come first, or shall I?”  
         “You.” He speeds up his hand, twisting his wrist on the upstroke. It’s not a motion Dopheld uses on himself, but it has him bucking his hips now.  
         “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” Mitaka pants, staring blankly at the ceiling. “Just like that, Niall, don’t stop—”  
         “Come for me, Dopheld. Come in my hand.”  
         That does it; Thanisson’s explicit encouragement shoves Dopheld over the edge. He spills in trembling bursts.  
         “Mm,” Niall hums happily. “I can feel it. Feel you squeezing me… from inside.” His hand stills but he leaves his palm cupped over Mitaka’s crotch.  
         “You close?” Dopheld asks breathlessly. He’s not sure how much more of this he can handle. That orgasm left him feeling drained and boneless. Once a session has made it to this point, he’s usually able to collapse onto a mattress or at least the floor; keeping himself upright is becoming an increasing challenge.  
         “Yeah. So close.” Niall places one hand on top of Dopheld’s where he’s using it to brace himself against the wall. Their fingers interlace. Mitaka whimpers quietly while Thanisson begins to selfishly pursue his own climax, free from the distraction of being a partner. “How… is your hole so tight… after so many men?” Niall gasps in wonder. “Fuck, you’re such a slut. And you still feel better than all those bitches who pretend they don’t want a rough fuck.”  
         “That’s because I know what I like. No morals, no inhibitions, no bullshit.”  
         “Just fucking,” Thanisson concludes.  
         “Yes. Now fucking _come_ in me, Niall.”  
         The petty officer groans and falls still. Dopheld can feel the sweat on his back. _No, not gay at all,_ he reminds himself while Nial kisses the side of his face and murmurs, “So good.”

 

Weeks later in the junior officers’ club, Thanisson darts a hand out to take Mitaka by the wrist. “I told Renae about you,” he hisses in an undertone.  
         Dopheld freezes from the statement more than the unexpected touch. He turns to face the petty officer.  
         “I mean, I didn’t say your name or anything.” Thanisson gestures toward a booth where they can speak more privately. “But she accused me of seeing another woman, and I just… I blurted it out. That I’ve been fucking a guy I work with, but only when she and I were fighting.”  
         “How’d she take it?” Mitaka inquires, settling into his seat and trying to determine what sort of look Thanisson has on his face. The younger man certainly doesn’t appear heartbroken, or even all that guilty.  
         “Oh,” Niall deadpans. “She threw me out. I’m back to single quarters now.” He leans over the table and leers at Dopheld. “You know what this means, though, right? We can fuck whenever we want.”  
         Wearily, Dopheld closes his eyes, opens them, and stands up. “Which in my case is not at all.”  
         Startled, Thanisson blinks multiple times before he speaks. “Wait, what?”  
         This is apparently not what Niall Thanisson had in mind when he ran this conversation through his mental simulator. “I’m done with this shit. The sex was quite decent, but I can’t put up with you any longer. It just isn’t worth the frustration.” He’s not sure where he’s finding the strength to make this stand, but he isn’t going to back away from it now.  
         “But who’s gonna fuck you the way you like? Fast and brutal?”  
         “I’ll find someone. And even if I don’t, somehow I’ll cope.” There are nearly one hundred thousand personnel on this ship, most of them male. Using a conservative estimate of five percent of them gay or bisexual, that leaves Mitaka with plenty of options. Besides, he might as well start angling for more senior men than himself. He’s not exactly planning on sleeping his way up the chain of command, but it won’t hurt to have few higher-ranking personnel look on him a bit favourably.


End file.
